The Hunger Games what happened after book 1?
by aLittlePieceOfSunshine
Summary: So this is what i think happened dirrectly after book 1 ended!Lots of drama and a few twists and surprises along the way! But...for more infomation you are going to have to read and find out-reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

The hunger games!

So this is set after 1 and before 2!

I don't own the characters but ideas are mine so don't copy!

Ps not all representations may be accurate as this is my interpretation!

Love to get some feedback on this, what you think etc! And... if people think its good i will post part two very soon! So..lets hope you enjoy!

_Gale still hasn't forgiven me. How can he? How can he __ever__ begin to understand?_

_I watched as children were tortured by death and knew I could do nothing; I listened as children screamed out in__ trembling agony,__ and knew I could__ only try not to hear__; I killed innocent children, who had as much reason to live as I did, and knew I could__ not allow myself to feel__. And wors__e__ still I defied the capital; I mean__,__ out of all these things how that is the worst I do not know__? How is politics, rebellion,__ the most terrible defilation of life? Is it because __I'm__ despised by President Snow? __(Not that I care). __No, it__'__s because now the capital has its eye fixed on me, and Peeta, and they will do anything to destroy both of us and our families, if __they see fit__. And it is my fault __entirely__; I have endangered at least five more lives, and__ all because, selfishly, I wanted to stay alive__. I never wanted anything to do with th__e__ horrendous cruelty __annually__ imposed on us by the capital. __Never.__ But, by some sick and twisted fate, I ended up on the podium like the twenty four other candidates. And to this day the whites of their scared, possessed eyes still stare at me in the darkness that__ envelopes__ me. I wanted nothing to do with it__-__ the futile slaughter of blameless children. __But instead__ I became just another pawn in their __immense, inescapable, interminable Hunger Games__. And for what? What is the reason for this suffering? To teach the districts a painful lesson__? A__ lesson about a war we can hardly remember? __Just__ stories passed from generation to generation, and with each passing __G__ames, the hatred grows and so do the stories; twisted and distorted to teach the poverty stricken to hate, the abundant to be grateful. It is not fair. It is not right. And I did nothing, except try to survive. And for that I am meant to be a hero? __Or, more likely, a villain?__ I did nothing. I despise what I did. I am disgusting. __No one__ can begin to comprehend me or how I am feeling._

My thoughts begin to take over, as memory after searing memory comes back to haunt me. I pull myself out of my recollections just as I see Peeta's disfigured body lying in the greying mud; the image is forever etched in my mind; before I have the time to ask the one question I already know the answer to:

"Is this all my fault?"

For once the forest's silence cannot ease the guilt burning inside me. I walk around aimlessly, though I should be hunting. Of course I don't have to any more, but I do, it's the only thing that keeps me sane now: shooting and killing. It seemed so vital before- now I feel nothing, just an empty loneliness where my heart once was. I pass through grove after grove, winding through the tan and crimson sludge, following the worn path made by years of tracking. I rest silently against the smooth soft bark of a giant oak, dusted with sour jade moss. Wordlessly I look down, and, out of the corner of my eye I see a single purple bloom. I don't bother to try to stop it. It's too late; the memory is already forcing its way into my mind. The tiny, beautiful, happy Rue, who could make the birds sing; who could make the birds stop and listen. She was no older than Prim, Prim who I had so willingly taken the place of; my dear, darling, little sister-who would not have survived, and I still don't think I have, not really. Yet no one offered to replace Rue, and so the birds will never again whisper the sweet melody of her voice, no longer will they stop and listen.

_Crack__._

I hear a twig snap, it barely makes a sound yet I sense it almost before it happens. I spin round, bow stretched, ready to shoot whatever demon lurks behind me, in the shadows. A true hunter again.

"Katniss?" Murmurs a voice, deafening me as it echoed through my apprehensive, bloody thoughts. Thoughts that have not left my mind since I first entered the games, let alone the painful images that burnt, that still burn my mind, even as the voice continues, "I need to talk to you".


	2. Chapter 2

Ok guys so this is part 2 of my series so far-Hope u enjoy! Would love to hear how you think it's going, but for now this is it!

My posture relaxed slightly, I was caught with an air of uneasiness, but it was close enough to calm once more. His face shone down on me like a ray of sunshine, his gaze piercing every inch of my flesh. I knew in that moment that he loved me, but I was still unsure of how I felt; I can barely go through a day without screaming, without crying, without the memories… I go through each day as if I'm blind to the world, deaf to the universe and numb to human touch, to feel anything deeper is impossible, to open my heart up, to open any part of me up, would tear me apart with the tormented misery at what I was part of, of what I did. And it is not that simple, I cannot, I _will_ not ruin his life, he has suffered too much and he deserves better than whatever inadequacy I can offer him.

"Peeta." My mouth whispers the name, coaxing it out slowly as if in that way he is more mine, closer to me than I can ever let him be now.

"Hello Katniss," he replies cheerfully, almost too cheerfully, as if he has something terrible to tell me. It makes me even more wary, but I set my bow down and rest in the hollow of a large tree, its trunk wrapping gently around my form. He follows, bending with difficulty, his fake limb proving a disadvantage once more. Again I think, "Is this all my fault?"

We sit for a long time, not saying a word, just listening to the familiar sounds of the forest, as I wrestle back images that have still not left my mind. There are pinecones and needles scattered through the earth, and tiny indentations can be seen in the soft ground. My hunter instincts had kicked in long ago, but they were the only things that kept me sane now.

I had shown Peeta the woods the day after we got back; I didn't want to, it was, it still is, mine and Gale's, and despite how hard I try, despite how hard I want to, I cannot forget that simple fact. But I owed it to him, to Peeta, to give him something of me, a piece of me, no matter how small, no matter how insignificant it was, I had to: it was time; it was fair; it was right. And the woods are a part of me so intertwined with who I am, how I feel, that it was the greatest gift I could give to him, to give Peeta a little bit of my heart.

"Shouldn't you be hating me right now?" I asked. I know it should have been a joke, but I was deadly serious.

"I could never hate you Katniss, never." He replied sincerely.

And that was it. I was angry at him, furious in fact. I wanted more than anything for him to hate me, to despise the very thought of my existence, but he would not. He had been devastated when I told him that Haymitch and I had made up our whole relationship, that we did it to earn supporters, to gain favours, to help him survive. But the fact that I did not love him shot through him harder and faster than a bullet to the head, more excruciating than the tracker-jacker venom that had seized through his veins like a slow torture, but this time I was powerless to help him, to make him whole again; though I had failed in that last time too. A single tear rolled down my pale cheek, and I was too absorbed in my sorrow, in my guilt over what I had let happen to him, to Rue, to all of them; they all died (all except Peeta, but he still suffers every day for what I let happen), they all died so I could survive, and am I a worthy victor? Should I still be here? Is this all my fault?

I feel Peeta's touch instantly; no matter how hard I try I will always know when it's him, his tanned fingers gently brushing the tears from my face. I looked up at him then, my grey coal seam eyes questioning him, asking him why, asking him the reason behind all of this. But he simply took my hand in his and squeezed it tight, and then he pulled me carefully, although a little awkwardly, to my feet, before whispering in my ear:

"Come Katniss, I've got something to show you".


End file.
